


More Trouble than You’re Worth

by thehomosexualunit



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, More tags to be added, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Romance, Smut, Theater AU, Wes - Freeform, WilSon - Freeform, Willow - Freeform, Willowson - Freeform, non explicit smut, wickerbottom - Freeform, wigfrid - Freeform, wilson p higgsbury, wolfgang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehomosexualunit/pseuds/thehomosexualunit
Summary: IN ACTIVE PROGRESSNo Game AU where Wilson is still a recluse scientist and Willow a pyromaniac (with some sleight tweaks). Just some nice slow burn romance. Your guess is as good as mine as to where this is going.





	1. The Scientist

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my hyperfixation- let’s see how this goes.

It’s not that Wilson didn’t enjoy plays. He just has little time for them. And interest. And general liking. If it weren’t for the slight moment of weakness he had earlier this morning, he wouldn’t be sitting in an opera box with a dozen other people in a smoky theater. The rich architecture which might have held his interest for a little while was lost among nicotine fog. Despite this- attending did give him an excuse to break out the old suit. 

Sitting rather stiff in the provided chair, he fished for the pocket watch kept in his waistcoat and clicked it open. The show would be starting soon. He would give it five minuets of his time before departing. Time was work after all, and there was a reason he lived in the woods and away from everyone else. Distraction was a foe he constantly needed to vanquish. And yet this morning his rival had bested him. 

Mail generally wasn’t delivered to him and his slanted house in the middle of the forest. The only time he received any contact from the outside world was when he either chose to pick up the mail left at the beginning of his driveway, or head into town to get the bare essentials. Groceries, spare parts, new clothes- an in and out mission. 

He decided to chose the prior, retrieving the mail and scanning through to find an odd and neatly printed letter. Inside contained a single ticket which fluttered to the ground and a small card which read “WONDERS YOU HAVE NEVER BEFORE SEEN.” No signature, no date, not even a whiff of cologne or perfume attached to the note. Odd indeed. 

The ticket had the address and time printed on, a pink and red discord of colors Wilson found very difficult to look at. He managed to decipher the details before looking back at the note. “Never before seen...” he murmured aloud. That’s when he realized he actually was considering accepting the invitation. And before he knew it-

Wilson watched the red curtain slowly part, the crowd falling into a hushed quiet. It continued when it was revealed another curtain was behind the first. A yellow one. Wilson raised an eyebrow as the next one came; a blue curtain. For the next thirty seconds several more were revealed. Magenta, green, checkered red and orange, aqua, and then finally, black. 

Wilson checked his watch. Four minutes to go. 

By now the entire crowd could be felt by the tension in the air. He had to commend whoever thought of the curtain trick, it certainly kept the anticipation high. Wilson caught the urge to lean forward, and kept himself in check with his posture. He had almost been swept up in the pageantry. 

He decided in that moment not to enjoy this one bit. 

‘Wonders he had never seen’; he highly doubted a man lifting a dumbbell or a glued together monkey and fish tail were really ‘wonders’. Perhaps departure would be earlier then he expected. Besides, it was getting rather stuffy in the theater. 

And that’s when the stage was suddenly alight. Not with spotlights or brightly shining colored bulbs in places the audience couldn’t see. But with fire. Real fire. 

At center stage stood two things. The first was a microphone. The second, was a large flame somehow rooted to the ground. Not spreading, just staying in place like some obedient and trained animal. Wilson felt a surge of surprise race through him, but he quickly stopped it. He could think of a dozen ways for this illusion to be achieved, and from his vantage point he could see underneath the flame was a different kind of flooring then the rest of the stage. A spotted, dark looking carpet which was keeping the bond fire in place. 

The scientist sighed and stood up, fixing his attire and grabbing his hat from the chair beside him. This was a waste of time; and that was his most valuable resource! There were already several projects which needed to be attended to and participating in watching a fire burn into a microphone was not the way for them to be finished. 

As he fixed his collar and headed up the stairs, he heard a gasp from the crowd. He struggled to not look back, remaining stubborn as he pulled away the velvet curtain which allowed exit from the box seat. 

Then, as though from nothing, a single note echoed into his ears. 

Another note, then another. And it was...terribly out of tune. More of them came and then words Wilson barely paid attention to. His lack of attention was due to the fact that his eyes were glued on the fire. The fire which was... 

“Impossible.” He said aloud, placing his hands on the balcony with a look of bewilderment on his face. Because it was only then the scientist realized it was not the fire singing or some disembodied voice from backstage, but a woman within; completely wreathed in flame. She wore a dress and gloves and her hair was kept at two lengths running down her front with hair covering her forehead. She stood neat and tall despite her height and the obvious danger consuming her. Her eyes looked almost vacant as they stared forward, her mouth seemingly independent from the rest. She was young and lithe and she was on fire. She was on fire. 

A small, soon to be almost impossibly large grin began to grow on his face as orange and yellow and red flickered across his eyes. 

Wonders he had never before seen indeed.


	2. The Firestarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow receives a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day! There's nothing like posting fanfic alone in your bed at 7:41 am before settling in with your own fluffy, slow burn story to read. Anyway enjoy.

The cheering and whistling became muffled as the curtains drew to a close. Willow stood stage left as she let go of her fellow performer’s hands and instantly took off the gloves. Itchy, stuffy things. She flexed her fingers in freedom and rebellion. 

The rest of the crew set about their business of closing for the night. Some collecting prop pieces needing to be strictly put back at their designated table while others set themselves on costume and make up removal. All in all it was like a hive of bees swarming around to do their duties for their queen. And speaking of-

“Willow, the Inflammable! Another successful turn of events, was it not?” A forever projecting voice materialized beside her, right next to her ear. As a strong arm wrapped around her shoulder, Willow could already feel the bruises begin to color her arms. She looked up to find one of the show’s best performers. Still in her Valkyrie attire and exaggerated make-up (really, had Willow ever seen her without it?) stood Wigfrid. There was a look of triumph in her face, and it wasn’t her over use of blush which gave her that look. She seemed genuinely pleased. 

“I suppose. We’ll have to see how much cash we raked in tomorrow though.” She replied somewhat absentmindedly, more so tired. She could feel her thumb itching for that familiar click of her lighter. Soon. She could retire to her dressing room soon. 

Wigfrid rolled her eyes and moved in front of Willow, grabbing her shoulders. “I’m not speaking of the riches, Inflammable- I’m talking of the cries of victory that echoed through these halls! I can still hear ‘em...” she said, almost wistful towards the end. 

Willow gave a small smile, though began to be unsure- and it showed. “I wasn’t really paying attention. When the fire surrounds you like that it’s hard to see. Are you sure putting me as the top act is a good idea? Were people actually...watching?” She asked, looking back at the black curtain which separated them from what seemed like reality along with several others. She didn't like sounding so self conscious. So what if people stared? That's what everyone did everyday all day at everything. Besides, they weren't looking because she had a gift or somehow special. They always looked with fear. 

“Crowd watch little flame. All watch. All stand. Big scary fire, so scary. Good entertainment.” She felt another hand, one much bigger than Wigfrid’s clap on her shoulder. She watched Wolfgang stop in his tracks, setting down about twenty full sandbags on a string to the ground. The Valkyrie woman relinquished in favor of crossing her arms and nodding resolutely. Willow felt herself grow physically and mentally tired just from standing next to the two. She couldn't quite handle the amount of shouting which took place when they were together, even if it was friendly. Especially when it was towards her. 

“I told her, but does she listen? Nay! It’s as though I speak to a ghost!” She added, talking about the fire starter as though she wasn’t there. She had turned to Wolfgang, gesturing to the fire starter, and Willow noticed this might be her opportunity to escape. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to back away. 

“I tell you, was watching from behind. Many people enjoy. Many scared. One big crazy smile. Act is good.” He says to Willow, causing her to stop in her tracks, though not because she was about to be caught in the act. It was what the strongman had said. 

“One big...Wolfgang what do you mean by ‘one big crazy smile?’ What kind of...jerk smiles at something like that?” As a matter of fact, she would but that wasn’t the point. Was someone in the crowd really smiling when they realized she was the pyre for her beautiful fire? Willow almost felt flattered until she realized they probably did not share the same sentiments as she did about flame. Most likely some sadistic jerk who enjoyed watching ladies catch aflame. It wouldn’t be the first time for a creep encounter. She sighed and said to the two, “Never mind. I’m tired and we have two shows tomorrow. Get some rest and someone tell Wes no lessons tonight. I’m not in the mood.” She said, turning on her heel and absconding from the conversation. She didn’t want to leave room for another five minutes of their endless banter. 

As she closed the door to her dressing room, she leaned against the old wood and fumbled for her lighter. A dainty, old thing with delicate carvings along the side. They gave it character. Gave it life. She nearly shakes in anticipation before it sparks to life by her doing, creating light in the already dim room. Relief. 

Staring into the flame she can think a little clearer now. The crowd in silent horror as dawning realization hit them, awe in their faces as they marveled, their eyes gleaming with wonder and desperation to understand what they were seeing. That's how it had always been- and Willow was comfortable with it at this point. Not happy, but comfortable. She remembered a long time ago a person saying never to settle. To always look for her happiness and chase it 'till it's legs gave out. Frankly it still didn't make much sense, but it seems as though she had given up on such an endeavor. "Sorry grandmother..." She murmured to no one, slowly letting her fingertips be lit one by one. The fire began its slow descent like water down her fingers.

That's when she remembered the box seat to the upper right of her. No one generally sat there for the performances because no one could afford a box seat or cared enough to try and buy one. In fact, the space was used for hiding from their stage manager to play card games or sleep in-between shows. But she remembered the well dressed man. There weren't many details, but she could recall his figure being rather on the darker side, pale skin, and tall. She remembered the grin that had spread across his face like a wildfire rushing through a dry patch of desert. Willow rather liked that image. 

It was all dashed away suddenly as the door behind her made a knocking noise from the other side. She nearly dropped her lighter. “Come in.” Willow said aloud instinctively, stepping back from the door and watching carefully the entry of the newcomer. Good gravy what time was it? How long had she been standing there? Internally she scolded herself for not watching the clock- again. One of these days she was going to miss something important. “I said no lesson today Wes.” She ventured, hiding the lighter behind her back as a force of habit and impatiently waiting for her mysterious guest to enter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	3. Meeting and Coversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two have a nice(?) chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still figuring out their voices, but I had fun writing this one!

From behind the door appeared a well dressed gentleman, a top hat in his hand and the pointiest chin one had ever saw. He had tried in the hall to smooth down his hair to be more presentable for the lady waiting on the other side, but decided his anxiousness was a bit more important to address at the moment then looks. 

What exactly was he doing? 

Well he had several hypothesizes running through his mind (some more exciting than others) and his curiosity was undoubtedly getting the best of him. He needed to crack the code, or solve the mystery as it were. His understanding for the fire trick needed to be satiated with answer and reason. Perhaps she would assist him with the latter. Achieving such a trick could possibly give him insight into how to prevent fire damage on his own body back in the lab. 

Wilson let the door slowly close behind him as he stood fully with his hat in his hands. A polite, but rehearsed smile took form on his face. He would deny it, but mannerisms like that took hours of practice in the mirror. Forgetting how to act ‘normal’ or ‘socially acceptable’ was the downfall of being a genius. 

“Greetings, miss. Apologies for an unexpected dropping in. I hope this Wes wouldn’t mind me in your room, I am merely here to speak.” he said with a touch of excitement, giving a short bow to which she did not return the obligatory curtsy. Wilson elected to ignore. “I just viewed your performance. It was quite the show.” He added, needing to find a footing in this conversation before she asked him to leave. Judging by the look- that wouldn’t be too long from now. 

The woman crossed her arms and asked, “Have I seen you around here before?” 

Wilson felt cottonmouth plague him- he wasn’t very strong at telling untruths. He thought of some mixed up lie, “Perhaps. I try to visit the theater once or twice a year at least to see, ah- operas and tradgedies and...” he couldn’t think of what else a theater could possibly give other then that, so he opted to waving his hand in the air as an all-around gesture and tried to shrug in reined casualness. 

Willow nearly rolled her eyes. 

“I meant for your sake, not mind. I’ve never seen you before in my life. Who are you?” She asked, remaining calm and still. 

Wilson needed a moment to reel from the bluntness he just received. He hadn’t met many performers prior to this- perhaps this is just how they spoke to one another? He cleared his throat and stuck out a hand while saying, “Where are my manners? Wilson P. Higgsbury, at your service.” 

The woman paused before slowly taking it and giving his hand one firm shake. Wilson decided to continue, “Might I inquire what they call you?” 

The woman looked like she could’ve laughed as she grasped his hand and said, “Whatever things you want I suppose. But if you must know, Mr. Higgsbury- my name is Willow. And just Miss Willlow is fine by you.” She then let go, letting her hand resting behind her again. “Now- what do you want?” She asked leaning against her vanity and setting her lighter down behind her, allowing the rest of her limbs to be free. 

Wilson fiddled with the brim of his hat, needing to clear his throat once again before saying, “Well, Miss Willow. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, and by all means feel the opportunity to oppose- but I was wondering if I could perhaps ask-“ god he could already feel it getting hotter in here, “-if it were possible to explain...well I mean, I suppose you don’t have t-“

“You don’t talk much to people, do you Higgsbury?” She observed, not exactly in a malicious way. But just more honest then one would consider polite. 

Wilson curled his lips together and froze up, finally replying, “No. No I don’t suppose I do. Would you mind if I...?” He pointed to a chair nearly covered in boas and coats in the corner and Willow nodded in approval. He quickly took a seat and forced himself to relax. “Now, as I was saying- would it be rude of me to ask how you performed your act?” He asked, anticipating an answer. 

Willow thought of one in response rather quickly. 

“Yes.” 

The scientist wasn’t sure what to say next, he merely just echoed questioningly, “...yes?”

“Yes, it would be rude.” She finished, giving a firm nod of her head. “It’s the rules.”

Wilson nearly snorted. Rules? 

“I’m sorry I...don’t think I’m familiar.” He said. 

“A performer never reveals her tricks! Otherwise what made the performance amazing will make it not so amazing. Got it?” 

“No.”

“Well, tough.” She finally said, giving him a look as though there was nothing else she could do about the predicament before them. Wilson was quite dumbfounded. 

He thought for a moment before replying, “If it is...a secret you need me to keep then I’ll have you know I am rather excellent at keeping secrets! I keep to myself mainly and stick to my own personal agendas- I hardly gossip. Besides, you were the one who said I didn’t talk to people.” 

“That’s a good point.” She said thoughtfully. An excited gleam entered Wilson’s eye. 

“So you’ll tell me?”

“Nope.” 

Wilson felt his heart drop to his stomach. 

“Why...in science’s name not?” He asked, feeling a degree of temperature rise in him. 

Willow smirked and said, “Because I want you to come back tomorrow.” 

That was not the answer Wilson had expected at all. And as he was escorted out into the narrow hall with the door shut behind him, he looked down at the horrendous red and pink ticket in his hand Willow had given and gently closed his fist around it. Tomorrow. He would get his answer tomorrow. Wilson tried not to trip over the rubber chickens strewn about on the way out. 

‘I want you to come back tomorrow...’ She has said. ‘You’re funny Highsbury. Like your hair.’ She has said. 

Wilson didn’t know weather to be livid at such games and insults thrown his way...or excited about the answers he would find tomorrow. 

As Willow shut the door, she felt as though a spark was beginning in her mind. This was new. It never happened. Never- she really couldn’t think of a time anyone had ever asked her how she did it. The other performers didn’t care, she was just another oddity. The public were far too frightened of her to ask, instead chalking it up to intensely amazing illusion. And then a man in a suit came nearly knocking down her door demanding questions. It made her feel, for the first time, special- in a good way. 

She looked forward to tomorrow’s show.


	4. The Mime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hair, science, and mimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, thanks for supporting y’all. If you want updates on chapters and other announcements, follow my tumblr officialgandydancer and turn on the notifications. Enjoy!

“So...it’s always like that?”

“Yes.”

“Since you were little?”

“Yes.”

“What if you brush it? Will it change?”

“No.”

“Wash it?”

“Yes but when it’s dry it sort of...forms back into place.”

“Hair cut?”

“No.”

“...burn it?”

“For the love of science, no!”

Willow laughed at that response. She was currently pacing back and forth her small dressing room with her guest sitting down with a tea cup in his hands. 

It was almost like an interrogation, the way they were set up. Willow found childish delight in the man’s odd hair. Granted it was rather stupid the way it defined the laws of physics (Higgsbury’s words, not her’s), but Willow was fascinated anyway. 

“I’m just saying if you burned it all away perhaps it would grow into a new shape. Like a circle. Or a triangle.” She pointed out. 

He stopped mid sip of tea and set it down in the saucer before saying, “Or maybe not at all. My father is going bald, I suppose it’s a matter of time for myself and I in no way wish to expedite the process.” Willow shrugged and nodded, understanding his reasoning. Except for the word ‘expedite’. She would have to ask Wes about that later in her lesson. 

Willow decided to change the subject, “What’s your job, Higgsbury?” 

Wilson needed to grow accustomed to such casual manners- definitely not the way he was raised. But then again those lessons and teachers were so, so long ago. What exactly were his manners now? He set the tea half finished on the side table near him and replied, “I am a scientist.”

“Oh. What kind?”

“Well. Primarily the inventive kind. But otherwise...anything and everything I suppose. To study one form of science is limiting the mind from being capable of understanding logic and reason from all vast knowledge and-“

“So you’re a nerd.”

Wilson looked as though he had been slapped. 

“I beg your pardon?” He asked slowly, eyes fixated on her own. 

She felt her lips curl into a smile a little at his reaction. “You’re a nerd. You talk about science as if she’s some mistress you’ve been flirting with.”

“I...I don’t think-“

“You should’ve seen your face when you were talking about it! Could practically see the hearts coming from your eyes. And you can’t get enough of her! You gotta get anything and everything from your one, your only-“

“Miss Willow, such language is completely inappropriate.” Wilson interjected, feeling a dusting blush on his pale cheeks. 

Willow rolled her eyes, but she could feel her ears growing a bit hot as well. She wanted to use her lighter so badly, but she would hold off. She didn’t want to reveal her cards too early. 

They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke up, “So that’s why you wanted to know about the trick. Cause you’re a scientist or whatever.” She crossed her arms and looked down at him. 

Wilson paused before slowly standing up, hat in hand as he said back, “Yes. I think it has the possibility of being important to my research.” He felt more relaxed now that they were talking about something in an area he was familiar with. 

Willow gave a slow nod, walked over to her vanity, and touched her lighter gently, as though it were a stilled animal. She was silent for quite a while, thinking about how she could possibly put this. 

But fear was a beast that gripped ones heart tight and never let go. Perhaps if she were younger, if she was still a child she could fight it off and be bold. But Willow was no longer a child, and she did not feel brave without her fire. So instead, she merely asked, “How did you get in again today without anyone seeing you?” 

She looked up at him in the mirror and he stared back with tired eyes. Wilson had watched her internal debate from his side and felt a twinge of regret asking. He thought about leaving, but seeing her change the subject sparked a little hope in him. Perhaps, she wanted him to stay. Maybe the answer wouldn’t be so direct as he once thought. 

So he gave a small smile and sighed, looking back at her and saying, “It wasn’t an easy feat.” Before relaying his time outside of her dressing room. 

-

_Wilson had slunk out of his box seat and took the familiar path up a short set of stairs to a door which opened to the backstage. He was met with a hurricane of people doing many different tasks it seemed. Some were sweeping up glitter and dust from the ground, others were feeding animals and escorting them back to their cages. More were taking off their make up furiously by splashing water in their faces._

_Wilson was glad he never became a thespian. This looked incredibly difficult._

_He stuck out like a dark, sore thumb in the middle of all this color and bright lights. When he walked by people briefly stared before returning back to whatever their task was._

_That was fine. Wilson was used to people staring. He had to be if one day people would gawk at his brilliance and genius._

_Wilson made his way across the stage and saw the very same dark wood door he had entered the previous night. He felt a jolt of excitement electrify his chest as he quickened his pace. Though before he could take another step towards her, he felt a hand tug at the bottom of his jacket._

_Quickly he spun around, hand going for his wallet and securing it tightly. His father told him a long time ago how people who worked in theater were crooks and pocket snatchers and while he dismissed it now- there was still some subconscious part of him telling him to hold onto his wallet for dear life._

_Instead what he found when he turned around- was a clown._

_No, the gradient was too black and white. A mime._

_Wilson stood awkwardly as he, much taller then the other, stared down at black, beady-like eyes staring right back. A long stretch of silence passed between the two as the scientist had no idea what to say in order to leave this rather awkward moment._

_What does one even say to a mime? How peculiar._

_Before he could even speak the mime put up a hand as if to say ‘stop’ and- with lightening speed pulled out a flaccid ballon from seemingly nowhere. Wilson stood paralyzed as the mime began to blow it up and tie the rubber together._

_The silence mixed with insufferable squeaking sounds from the balloon was enough to put Wilson on edge. His eye twitched._

_Finally finished, the mime handed over the balloon dog on a string to Wilson who took it reluctantly. He gave a half forced smile, clearing his throat as he said, “Th-thank you, sir. Ah...I appreciate-“_

_Another hand came up to stop him. Wilson shut his mouth instantly and was keenly aware of the sweat on his neck. The mime smiled and pointed in the direction of Willow’s dressing room, making a walking motion with his fingers, and then pointing at Wilson._

_The scientist slowly nodded and said, “Yes...yes I was going to pay a visit to Miss Willow. She invited me you see.”_

_The mime’s eyes widened and he smiled, nodding in understanding. Wilson felt himself relax a smidge, holding the dog balloon tight. He gave a nervous laugh and said, “Yes she actually gave me a ticket-“_

_POP!_

_The balloon’s desecrated corpse was on the ground, his jacket, and his cheek. Wilson yelped out the sudden burst, eyes wide and posture straight. He looked back at the performer and..._

_The mime stood rigid with a pin in hand, and an unsettling look on his face._

-

“That’s Wes. And that’s just his act! He’s more physical with his miming.” Willow said after a brief laugh over the turn of events Wilson had to get through to get here. She was surprised he had made it this far, other people would most likely run from here as fast as possible. 

“It was not an act! He was threatening my life! Are you sure he’s alright up there?” He pointed to his own head. 

“Are you sure you just aren’t very afraid of mines?” She countered. Wilson pursed his lips together. 

“A man of science is not afraid of mines. There are far scarier things in the universe then that.” He said, quite untruthfully. 

Willow grinned and shook her head saying, “He’s just trying to protect me, that’s all.”

Wilson’s face softened a bit, slowly standing from his seat again and saying, “Oh. Perhaps then this is...ungentlemanly of me then. To be in a room alone with a lady who has already...you know.” 

Silence. It took a few seconds for Willow’s thoughts to come together before she out of nowhere exclaimed, “I’m not dating the mime!” 

Wilson blinked. “But. But the lessons. And how..protective he was-“ 

“We’re friends!”

“He threatened me!”

“Because we’re friends! It’s not every day a strange man with weird looking hair waltzes in and wants to talk to me of all people.” She said, feeling her temperature rising. 

There was a moment of quiet that settled between the two. 

Then Wilson finally spoke, “So you admit it.”

“What?”

“He _was_ threatening me.” 

Willow paused before giving way to a small smile and saying, “No, Wes would never hurt a fly. That’s Wigfrid’s job. Be lucky you didn’t run into her. He was just trying to be intimidating.”

Wilson thought for a moment before saying, “Wigfrid?”

“That one act that went on for twenty minutes about the Valkyrie and the giant snake.” 

“Ah.” Wilson said simply, and then spoke, “My apologies for assuming, Miss Willow. I meant no disrespect by my words.”

So back to formalities again. Willow gave a nod and walked up to him, giving a small pat on the shoulder, “No hard feelings Higgsbury.”

There was a moment between the two as their eyes met that suddenly everything was comfortable. As though they had the beginnings of a routine. Both quietly and to themselves acknowledged it. 

“And would you look at that- times up for today.” Willow said, breaking the spell. 

Wilson froze as he looked down at the woman bewildered, “What?”

Willow began escorting him out as she said, “You wasted all your time talking about mimes and science and you didn’t even get around to asking me about my trick! Shame. You’ll have to come back tomorrow...” 

“Now hold on just a moment-“

“Goodbye Wilson. And watch out for Wes, he’s a sneaky one.” She said gently nudging him out the door. 

“Miss Willow-“

The door closed before he could get in another word. He sighed in defeat and pinched the bridge of his nose. That had gone spectacularly. 

Wilson carefully looked around at the darkened theater, checking for any eyes peering at him through the black before stuffing his hands in his coat pockets and walking out. 

And of course, he could feel a ticket between his fingers in his pocket.


	5. Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson visits again and Willow wonders about their situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter just cause the second part of it is going to be much longer and I like break up my shit into manageable, bite size snack meals. Also I just wanna say thank you to bamsara, heypasstheangst, and tantum-tenebris for inspiring me to write this fic. Go check out their context cause it’s fucking rad.

“Three questions.”

Willow looked at him from her mirror, an eyebrow arched in silent questioning. To her surprise, the scientist had come once again to the show and stayed afterwards to- _once again_ try and pry the answers out of her. 

Willow has to admit it was nice having the company, even if it was this particularly stubborn man. 

She picked up her lighter and clicked it on, a warmth spreading through her fingertips. The urge to just let her hand catch aflame was great, but there was nothing she could do with him watching so intently. 

Still the feeling lingered, as it had all her life. 

Willow resigned herself to lighting the already well-melted candles around her vanity, clicking off the lighter and setting it down. The glow gave the room and their features rather haunting looks. Willow was pleased. 

Looking back at Wilson, she replied, “Two.”

A pause. “Don’t you think I deserve three at least?” He asked, sitting in his usual, designated chair slightly slumped. Over the few visits they had he became more and more at home in her little dressing room. It’s not like she particularly cared, more so amused at his lack of manners he seemed so proud of. 

“What exactly have you done for me to make you think you deserve three questions?” She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly, “and slouching? How ungentlemanly of you, Higgsbury.” 

Wilson instantly stood up straight. Willow had to bite her lip from laughing. It was almost like giving a command to a dog- a tired, sad, awkward dog. 

He offered a disgruntled look and pinched the bridge of his nose before replying, “I’ve come to your performances haven’t I?” 

“Yes and the last two have been free of charge.” She answered quick, a smirk forming on her painted lips. Painted lips which- she needed to scrub off desperately. She picked up her towel in the water basin and wrung it out, watching it drip back down into the bowl. 

An unfortunate necessity water was to living. 

In the corner of her eye she could see Wilson’s attention on her again. “Do you mind if I...?” She gestured towards her face with the towel. 

The scientist blinked a few times before shaking his head quickly, “Not at all! By all means this is your dressing room, Miss Willow...” his eyes instantly diverted away. She rolled her eyes. 

Willow began to scrub the red off her lips and the rogue on her pale cheek. The stage make up was heavy on her face, generally she preferred near nothing when it came to applicators. She felt like her skin could breathe again. 

Willow paused as she finished one side of her face, pulling the towel away from her eye and asking, “Higgsbury...would you say we’re becoming friends?” 

The question easily caught the scientist off guard. 

How was he supposed to answer this question? 

The first thought that came to mind was no, absolutely not. Friends wasted time generally with frivolous and stressful activity. And this wasn’t...wasted time. This was research. 

But before he could answer, Wilson looked at her expression and the words stopped halfway through his throat. 

Expectant, questioning, and a dash of, what was it? Hope? He felt a twinge of guilt in his core. 

_Think first before you speak_ , he thought to himself, though a stern woman’s voice could be heard in the back of his mind. Even with a sea between them, mother’s rules followed. 

“Would you...want to be friends with someone like myself, Miss Willow?” He asked slowly, choosing his words carefully. 

A question with a question. Wilson could already feel he wasn’t getting his long sought after answer today. 

This time it was Willow’s turn to think. Though it didn’t take nearly as long. 

“I barely even know you.” She finally said, turning around in her chair and giving and incredulous smile. “One day I’m spending my evenings alone or with Wes or having dinner with the crew- the next there’s a crazy jerk scientist barging in and asking me all these questions I can’t answer.” She shrugs before continuing, “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. The thing is I don’t know you Higgsbury.”

“Well...perhaps you could. If you’re ever not doing all that-“ he made a waving gesture to the door, referring to the stage beyond. A plan was formulating in his mind. “Perhaps we could take a walk through town. Or the park. Or the observatory.” He mused, almost thinking aloud. 

“My point is- would you be more willing to give away your secret to a friend rather then a...crazy, jerk scientist?” He asked, standing up slowly and leaning out his hand to shake the woman’s. 

Willow paused, mouth slightly parted in her mild surprise. “This is all so...formal. And nice. Why am I flattered even though I’m being used as a means to an end?” She said amused. 

_Shit_ , he thought. 

Wilson cleared his throat and replied, “I didn’t...that is-“

“I’m kidding. It’s a nice offer despite your...intent.” She said this genuinely, wanting him to understand that this wasn’t going to be some easy game. She was going to play too. She wasn’t a pigeon to be plucked. 

Not anymore at least. 

Willow stood up from her chair, looking back at the man’s tired, dark eyes and studying his expression. Could she trust him? Really?

Willow sighed. Then- reached out her hand and clasped it with his, a resolute shake between them. 

That’s when the lights went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, consider yourself a saint. Please leave kudos and a comment if this really got your goat.


End file.
